Dreams Without Meaning
by Mikaceous
Summary: The Lorax gave him a gift. His gift gave him a soul. His soul gave him new friends. His friends gave him Norma. Norma gave him a chance to forgive himself... AU, multi-series crossover. Includes Normaler later on.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome, and thank you for deciding to read this story! This is my first story on FanFiction. It was originally just going to be something to help me out of a writer's block, but it's evolved into its own little story, so let's see where this goes. c:**

**I currently don't have a beta reader for this, but I know that there are some mistakes in this writing. I'll fix those in later chapters. **

**Just a heads up, there is some language in here, but anything really foul will be censored. **

**Enjoy! :3**

* * *

How could he _do _that?

Just up and leave like that? It was preposterous! Propaganda, to say the least. The peanut had obviously been just waiting for this to happen, so that he could flaunt in his face like a new bushy mustache. A giant new bushy mustache. That damned Lorax, leaving the moment his job was done...

His job was done.

Green suited shoulders heaving, the young man recalled the furry guardian of the forest, how he had seemed so sad to see the final Truffula tree cut down. How he had sadly sent all of the creatures off to go somewhere, far, far away. How he had lifted himself up by his shaggy pants and disappeared through the smog-

The Once-ler looked up into the sky, his deep blue eyes flicking from cloud to cloud. They were all uniform, gray, hopeless. Slight rolls and indentations puckered their undersides, but there were no awning gaps in the sky. No orange furry creature falling flat on his mustache at his feet.

No more trees.

No more Lorax.

No more friends.

He ripped his top hat off of his head in exasperation, thrusting it at the ground and stomping all over it. His teeth ground together as he pictured the hat as any number of things: the Lorax, his mom, Aunt Grizelda, Melvin, and for a short while, even himself.

His spic-and-span green suit complained at being tortured so, not used to such vigorous movements. A suit was not made for stomping things, but rather for, well, flaunting how rich you were in everyone's face. Not like there was anyone to boast to anymore.

With a grunt, Beanpole tore his jacket off. It refused to relinquish its sturdy grasp on his skinny frame, however, and burst at the seams before finally coming off.

"Stupid coat," muttered the Once-ler. His brow fell over his blue eyes as he inspected his coat. It certainly wouldn't be wearable anymore. Not in this state. Unless he fixed it. And he hadn't sewn anything since his family had started to work for him. It turns out that there was something unmanly about knitting, after all. He didn't even know if he remembered how to sew things.

"Great. How am I supposed to look fabulous when I don't have a coat?"

The young man scuffed at the ground with a spotless shoe, watching the dust clouds float through the air wearily. There was no wind to pick them up and float them away. They spiraled slowly back towards the earth. Once they had settled down, it was as if they had never been disturbed. There was no grass for the dust to sit upon, only the cold, lifeless ground.

Far off in the distance, a machine groaned, already beginning its long, arduous path to deterioration. Long, graceful necks of steel bent slowly towards the ground, making a delicate archway of death. The ax heads at the top drooped forlornly, seeming almost pitiable in nature.

"If anybody needs any pity, it's me," the tall man muttered before looking around himself again. He had seen it all before – the bleak, flat horizon, the schloppity lake, the pointed lack of trees, but only now did he understand what it all implied.

This was his home until things got better. Which they never would.

"All mine, until the day I die. How romantic." _Not._

But it was all his. Unless...

Blue eyes raked across the landscape once more, scrutinizing every last detail. Everything was still. There was no doubt about it, he was the only living creature in sight. Which, coincidentally, tended to have its downsides.

Like the fact that there were _no f***ing people. _

Even if he wanted to, there wasn't any saving his pretty face. No one was coming to rescue him, of that he was certain. "Why no one thought to, I don't know, _leave me a car_, I'll never know," he growled.

Well, there was no point in dwelling on the past, he always said. That's what his Uncle Ubb always did, and look where it landed him! Jobless, living with his wife and her three kids. Always better to think about the future!

_Then maybe I wouldn't have f*** things up as badly as I did._

Pushing that glum thought aside, the leggy man took stock of his home. His tent had long since forgotten in the chaos of running a company. There was no going back to that flimsy old thing, even if he wanted to. Which he didn't.

Thinking about before you were successful can be painful.

He had moved his apartments to a more lavish accommodation, a big five room suite. Well, now instead of one suite, he had an entire factory to himself. Wonderful.

Far off in the distance, he heard the clamoring of the few people who remained in Thneedville as the people tried to reorganize themselves. Contrary to popular belief, not everyone did leave the town after the business failed. Some people, having invested so much of their life's work into this company, had stayed on, even when everybody else had left. There were few people now, but once the place had been cleaned up and made to look more liveable, people would start to come back.

A younger, more ambitious Once-ler might have set off towards the town. But this older, more experienced businessman knew better. Sound carries far in a valley like this, making sound travel farther than it normally would. Without a car or mule to take him there, the trip could take all day, if not longer. And once he got there, would they even let him in?

Saying he was the reason they were in this mess would be the understatement of the year.

Although he was loathe to admit it, he had another reason for not heading towards the town. He was ashamed. Being forced to see these people that had worked for him being in the same situation he was in was too embarrassing for the young man to think about handling right now. He had to come to grips with himself before he could start thinking about others.

Yes, it was better to stay here.

Even if no one would be blessed by his wondrous pretty face from all the way out in the middle of nowhere.

* * *

**Just a footnote, this _will_ be a crossover eventually, between several different books and TV shows. Since it is predominantly in the world of The Lorax, I decided to put it here, however if this should be moved to crossovers please let me know, as I'm still learning my way around the community. ^^" The reason I put this story in this section is because there are going to be multiple crossovers, so I wasn't sure what the other book could be considered for this story. **

**Potential crossovers for this story include: _His Dark Materials, The Chronicles of Narnia, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic,_ and_ Phineas and Ferb__. _I'll be explaining everything from those series as I go along, so as long as you don't mind potential spoilers you won't have to have seen/read those series to understand what's going on. ^^**

**Thanks for reading! c:**

**~Mika**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much, my wonderful reviewers! c: I know that my last chapter was a little short, but this one is almost twice as long, which means twice the fun! x3 **

**RandomstalkerNOWWITHausername: Thank you for the feedback! c: Maybe it's just that I'm tired because it's early, but I'm not quite sure I follow what you're saying :/ Do you want me to summarize the chapters that include MLP at the end of the chapters? If so, that sounds easy enough, I think I can do that xD Thanks for showing me that video, by the way, I shall never listen to that song without thinking of Oncie ever again xP**

**Enjoy! :3**

* * *

Something was wrong with the house.

A tall figure stood, forced to stoop in the too-short doorway, bristling at the uncomfortable feeling. No one could come into his house without his permission. _No one_. Not even his mama was allowed. Someone could break something, or, heaven forbid, break_ two _somethings. The young man shuddered, just thinking about all the potential somethings he had saved by not letting anyone into his abode.

Sliding into the entryway, the Once-ler walked around the ground floor, pausing here and there as he examined everything. Nothing was out of place, thankfully, and no somethings were broken. Nothing even looked like it was out of place. Everything was exactly where it should be. Yet he knew that something wasn't right. He knew his house surprisingly well for a man too busy to sleep in it most nights, and he could sense that something was amiss.

Only one person could have messed up his house without him noticing it, but he wasn't here. He had left and was probably partying his ass off on the cloud tops right now. However, the Once-ler didn't put it past the fat jellybean to mess around with his belongings without even coming into in his house. That was just too typical of him.

The young man wandered aimlessly around the house, mulling things over. He was in no particular hurry, after all; it wasn't like he had any deadlines to meet. That thought caused him to stop short in his tracks. Blue eyes widened as he fully realized all that that all alone he was used to, albeit not quite as alone as this; being stranded and forced into seclusion was only so different from when he set out with his mule and his dream as his single possessions as he had done so many years ago; but not having time limits? Not having some important goal to work for? Now, _that_ was weird. That hadn't happened since Thneed Inc. had been started up, possibly even before then. Even as a young boy, the Once-ler had always been striving for something. Ma's attention, a new guitar, selling his Thneeds-

For the first time in his life, he was purposeless. He had nothing to work for, no one to live for. Maybe the green suited man should have been scared, but all he felt was a strange sense of elation. Now he could focus on the things he really wanted without having to focus on getting his ma's attention at the same time.

Black hair ruffled flipped through the air as the Once-ler jerked his head up in an abrupt motion. Was he imagining it, or was there someone speaking to him? It was impossible, he was all alone... but no, there it was again: the harsh, croaky voice sounded throughout the entire house. _"It's about time you stopped being the boy your mama wants you to be, and instead became the man that you know you are inside."_ It sounded like the wind whistling through the creaky shutters, the moaning of the floorboards as it shifted on its foundation, the stillness of a house not inhabited often enough given a song to sing.

The Once-ler nodded curtly, not really seeming to notice whether the disembodied sound was coming from his head or the outside world. It wasn't like it really mattered, he supposed. Even if he was going mad, and started to hear voices that weren't really there, it wasn't like people would be able to see. No one besides himself would witness the transformation of his beautiful face as it deteriorated slowly from impressiveness to insanity.

_They say the mind is the first to go, but the body has to follow soon after-_

The Once-ler shook his head. This was no time to be thinking about how ugly his face would undeniably look in a few years. He glanced around, realizing with some surprise that he had ended up in the attic of his house.

It wasn't really an attic, of course. Attics were _so_ last year, his mama said. No, it was merely a cramped little room on the top floor of his house that held all of the extra crap that couldn't fit in the rest of his dwelling. He squinted, trying to see through the darkness. The windows were closed, and a single light bulb hung from a cord from the center of the room. A mountain of stuff lay between him and it, making it almost impossible to get to.

The Once-ler shuffled over to the window. He tried to open up the shutters, but they were fickle and refused to budge. His tall frame shook visibly as he wiggled them back and forth, trying to ease them open, but to no avail. In the end, his skinny fingers had to practically rip them off before any light could be cast into the dark room. It was not that much of a difference in lighting, what with the thick smoggy clouds covering up the sun, but it created enough of a difference in the room that he could make out shapes and colors, for the most part.

The young man coughed, his torso wracked by the furious bought. It was just the dust, he told himself, although in reality its source came from the low overhanging clouds. People didn't have as delicate throats as Swomee Swans did, so they did not lose their voices from all of the pollution, but inhaling too much of it gave one a terrible cough and horrible irritation. The people of Thneed Inc. brushed it off like it was nothing more than a common cold (Just a side effect of becoming famous!) but that didn't do anything to change how bad it was to their health.

Bright blue eyes blinked away tears formed from the mustiness as he turned around. Brows furrowing, he squinted over at the corner of the room. A soft glow of weak light fell across the objects strewn over there, illuminating them and giving them an almost angelic appearance. Picking his way through the clutter, the man leaped nimbly from bare floorboard to bare floorboard. He was reluctant to touch even one of the objects thrown so carelessly on the ground; doing so ricked triggering some unpleasant memory or other.

Hands outstretched, he ran one long, gloved finger down the striped wood of the closet that had undeniably not been put there by his mama. "So this is what the orange sausage had done to my house," he muttered unpleasantly. His voice was still hoarse from coughing, so it came out sounding akin to a growl of utter contempt. Which it was, in a way. Right now he felt nothing but hatred for that little peanut. "Guardian of the forest, my foot! Guardian of useless objects, more like."

He hadn't stolen anything of value, hadn't even disturbed any of the intricate scaled-down models he had lying around the house. No, instead he had scarred his beautiful house's feelings by marring it with _this_ thing's ungainly presence.

How very typical of him.

The closet that stood before the Once-ler did not look out of place amid all of the crap that lay strewn about the room. It was vast, bulky and wide, rather unlike the slender man that stood before it. Resentful admiration peaked through the overcast look in the man's face as he brushed over the nicks and dents in the wood delicately. Annoying the little peanut may be, but was resourceful, he gave him credit for that.

Having little use for the trunks of the Truffula trees, Thneed Inc. had taken to stashing them in one huge pile on the other side of the valley. It would have been all too easy to steal away with a few pieces of wood and make a dresser like the one before him.

But, why, why a closet of all things? Sure, it made him want to cry because of how ugly it was, but it didn't make him feel particularly remorseful. It didn't make him regret his decisions. Why didn't he send something big, flashy, and screamed his failure in his face?

No, that wasn't the Lorax's style, he mused. What was it he had said to him, time and time again? "It doesn't work like that." The furry meatball was subtle and indiscreet. That he had an ulterior motive for sending it, the Once-ler had no doubt, but it was up to himself to figure out what he was supposed to do with this gift.

If one could call such a disgraceful abomination a gift.

"What's this?" muttered the skinny person. Shedding his green gloves, he bent low to the ground. Without his extra layer of green cloth on his hands, his fingers had much more mobility and precision. Delicately, he pried a slip of paper out from the corner of the closet. He smoothed out the folds, handling the scrap like it was an antique treasure. In a way, it was.

Reading the words carefully, the Once-ler formed the words with his mouth slowly, as if tasting each one on his lips.

"Beanpole, I have left this gift with you in the hopes that it might help you deal with the long lonely hours that undoubtedly lie ahead of you. L."

The print was scrawled, as if rushed, and the final initial was so squiggly that it's identity would be ambiguous at best, if he hadn't already known who the letter was from.

"And he still has the guts to call me Beanpole, after everything we've gone through. Cute." The Once-ler snorted. "And how the hell does he think that a flipping _closet _can make me less lonely? Does he expect me to start talking to it? Puh-_lease_."

A gust of wind blew through the open window, forcing the tall man to bend up double as the putrid scent from outside wafted up his nose, sending him into another coughing fit. The air cut through his thin shirt like paper, and he shivered uncontrollably until the wind had subsided. His coat had been torn up too much in his temper tantrum – er, his hat smashing routine, to be worn in its current state, so he had left it downstairs. He was in the coldest room of his house in only a thin blouse to protect him. He groaned, since it had never occurred to his ma to buy him more than one jacket. Rolling his eyes, the young man supposed he would have to do with whatever he could take until he patched up his old coat. He reached for the door handle, cautiously sliding the door open. While there was no way this thing could give him company, it had to have at least a coat or two inside. The door opened easily enough, revealing that the entire inside was stuffed to the brim with coats.

Smirking, the Once-ler sorted through the clothes, trying to find something that could fit his thin build. His grin soon dropped off of his face, however, as he realized that the only coat that could fit him was a dingy blue cloak made out of the world's scratchiest wool; everything else was much too big for him.

"Hardly what I would call fabulous," muttered the Once-ler, but he pulled the cloak out from the mass of cloth nonetheless.

"Wait, what's this?" the Once-ler paused, his makeshift coat hanging loosely in his hands. He could have sworn that, for the smallest of seconds, that there had been a flash of light from behind the mass of coats. One long hand reached out, pushing everything to the side, while the other slung the blue cloak over his back. There was more apparel inside than he had initially realized, but he had to whet his curiosity. An inventor like himself is always looking for new opportunities!

Who knew what was on the inside of a closet made from a forest guardian, anyways?

"Bingo," he breathed. On the back side of the closet, where there should have been wood, was instead a wall made of light. Blinking to adjust to the brightness, the tall man saw that he was looking at a busy street on a cloudy day. The sky was white, and the sun made no effort to appear through the clouds. For a moment, the Once-ler was sad that the sun wasn't shining even inside the closet, but then he scolded himself for his silliness. Suns don't shine inside closets. Get a grip, you stupid moron.

He was looking in on a busy street made of cobblestone. Every once in a while a horse drawn carriage would pass by, but for the most part, everyone was walking to wherever they wanted to go. Hold on, wait just a moment- The Once-ler paused, rubbing his eyes. Was he seeing correctly?

As impossible as it seemed, it was true. There were people living inside of the closet. Cloaked, booted people, hunching over as the marched from place to place, faces pointed downward as they tried to avoid the worst of the wind, but still people. Living, breathing people. Human beings. Hopefully decent ones that could carry on a decent conversation, unlike his ma, would could barely go five seconds without telling him what he had to do to get better at selling his Thneeds (it was for his own good, he was sure, but he still wished she could stop it to talk to him like a normal person for just five minutes.)

The young man sighed, thinking that maybe the furry peanut wasn't so bad after all. He did send him a closet with people inside of it, which, despite no matter how weird no matter how you look at it, was still a pleasant surprise.

Bright blue eyes closed momentarily as he whispered a soft, "Thank you, Mustache," up into the sky. Then, he stepped out of the closet and into the street, ready to make some company to fight off the long, lonely hours that the Lorax had predicted he would face.

Although at this rate, it didn't look like he would be very lonely at all.

* * *

**...And then there were crossovers x3 **

**The idea of a closet leading to another world is *stolen* from the magnificent CS Lewis and his series, _The Chronicles of Narnia. _The identity of the world is secret for now, but you'll figure out what it is by next chapter. ^^ **

**The Lorax and all characters associated with it (C) Dr. Seuss and Illumination Entertainment, Universal Studios, etc.  
Closets leading to other dimensions (C) CS Lewis  
Story (C) me :3**

**Thanks for reading! c:**

**~Mikaceous**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for keeping my little Once-lings and Loraxlets waiting so long for the next edition to the story! Thank you all for being so patient (:**

**There is another series in this chapter, I'll reveal which one it is at the end. Enjoy! **

* * *

"It's called snow."

The Once-ler whirled around, caught off guard by the young lady who stood before him. He had stepped boldly enough into this new enviroment, but his ineptitude in this strange place became quickly apparent as the simplest of things made him stop and stare in amazement.

The first thing that caught his eye was the people. They were everywhere, and after spending those agonizing hours by himself, the company of these strangers was a welcome change of pace. They were all rushing from place to place, collars tucked up to combat the blistering wind and noses pointed downward to avoid frostbite. Several people wore pointed red hats with bells on the ends. These people traveled in large groups, singing delicately and holding out cans, hoping that a kind soul would toss them a coin or two. The voices reminded him of certain other singing creatures with equally gaudy headgear, but they gave their voices for free, and even the most bedraggled Swomee-Swan was better than any human alive-

(Oh god why did that stupid Mustache make them all leave he had done nothing wrong-)

The buildings were the second thing – they were old and majestic, towering high above him with weathered and beaten rooftops and manual wooden shutters. Having designed his own factory and the very town that all of his employees lived in, the Once-ler considered himself to have a fairly skilled architect's eye. These buildings, while they did not carry the whimsical grace and lightness that Thneedville's did, certainly had an imposing presence nonetheless. He felt dwarfed, miniscule among these giants.

The third thing he noticed were the small white flakes floating out of the sky. They danced through the air, landing softly on his outstretched palms. The young man bent over the flakes, noting how delicate and fragile each individual piece was before they dissolved into water by the warmth of his hand.

His wonder at the particles must have been more obvious than he had thought; apparently people don't just stop walking in the middle of the street to examine nature's tiny miracles in this town. (Was all this really happening inside his closet? He didn't recall stepping out of the wardrobe, rather, it felt more like the furniture had been a window between two different places, but wasn't a separate place in itself.)

But here he was, making a fool of himself in front of the first people he had seen in the longest time. Great way to make good first impressions, Oncie. Be entranced by the snow! Yeah, that's a great way to make friends – with the residential loonies, perhaps.

The woman that stood before him looked strict, yet faintly amused at his wonderment. Her eyes were devoid of any emotion, but her lips curled slightly in what might have been a smile. Or a sneer. Or a smirk. It was hard to tell. Whether it was a look of cheer, conceit, or contempt, there was no denying her beauty. The inventor gave a dumb smile of his own at her, distracted from the snow by her flashing blond hair and the depths of her bright green eyes.

She appeared young, younger than him, even, but the way she walked towards him, her long legs visible through the veiled ruffles on her dress, spoke of an unspeakable wisdom. Long, thin hands reached out towards him, interlocking her fingers with his own.

"Heh- hi." muttered the inventor, mind blank. _She's beautiful._

"Come with me."

At that, she was pulling him along, practically running through the crowd. The Once-ler struggled to keep up, subconsciously putting a hand to his head to hold his hat in place before remembering that he wasn't wearing one. His palm felt strangely numb, and he pulled it away to find snow stuck to his fingers. It wasn't melting.

"Wear gloves next time. We've no time to lose, come on!"

The Once-ler had no choice but to quicken his pace to keep up. His long legs slipped on the cobbled pavement, his fancy shoes doing little to keep his toes warm or to give him traction on the icy stones. His pinstriped pants flapped about his legs, soaked from splashing carelessly into puddles.

"Where- where are we going-" he gasped, heaving for air. Running wasn't really his thing, especially after doing nothing but instructing people how to run Thneed Inc. for several years in a sky filled with smogulous smoke. The air here was surprisingly clean, but that didn't stop his skinny frame from being racked with coughs every five seconds.

"Someplace where you won't stand out," was the curt reply. "This way."

"Away from the people? But I haven't had a chance to talk to people in at least twenty four hours!" complained the young man, his knees trembling from the strain of running so fast. They were both sprinting by now, having made their way out of the current of people and into quiet side streets. She kept moving quickly, refusing to slow down.

"Then talk to me."

"Uh..."

The Once-ler was stunned by this question. No one besides his mama has ever commanded him to talk before, and the similarities in their tone of voice quieted him down until they had stopped. The woman dusted some of the snow off of his shoulders in a brisk movement before shoving him onto a stone bench. The inventor shivered, hugging his arms around himself in a feeble attempt to keep warm. As the woman sat herself down, too, he scooted over to her instinctively, but she pushed him away with one of her lanky arms. With a jolt, he realized that she had little more than sleeves to cover up her pale skin, yet she did not feel cold in the slightest.

"How are you so warm?" he asked, resisting the urge to lean up against her. He didn't know this woman. That would be awkward.

But he was so _cold_-

"You're not from here."

The words cut through him like a knife through butter. She spoke in an abrupt, straightforward manner, but he couldn't shake the feeling everything she said had a double meaning.

"Uh, hello, I just met you! I don't even know your name! How the hell do you know where I do or don't come from?" growled the tall man, his blue eyes riveted on her soft green ones.

She simply tossed her head back and laughed. It sounded like the tinkling of little bells, and the sound of it warmed the cold man's heart up immediately. "Do I look like a regular human being to you? Do you not notice my lack of a dæmon? Is it not obvious to you that I am a witch?"

"You don't look like you're missing much of your inner demon to me, forcing me to sit out in the snow when it's this cold out. It never gets below freezing in the valley-" his eyes widen as he sits up straighter, ears practically swiveling forward. "Wait a moment. Did you say _witch_? As in a magic wands and card tricks type of witch?"

She glared at him. "First of all, it is not 'demon,' it is 'dæmon.' Your soul, a companion to talk to, to comfort you. Only witches dæmons can go long distances from their humans, but males cannot be witches. Yours must be inside of you, like those in Lyra Silvertongue's world-"

She was interrupted by a ruckus honking sound. A large gray goose flew down out of nowhere, settling precariously on the witch's shoulder. It eyed the tall man before him a few times before turning its beak towards her ear and whispering something quietly.

Although he did not seem to be a magical creature of some kind, there was no denying the fact that he was actually talking. Not the little whines and hums of the forest creatures back home, but real, honest-to-goodness talking. He had no idea how this was possible, but if this lady really was a witch, she could have bewitched him to be able to talk.

The voice was definitely masculine. The young man did not catch everything he said, but he heard murmurs of "can't sense a dæmon inside of him... not from this world... through a portal..."

At that, the woman gave a sudden intake of breath. "The angels said that they had closed all of the windows to the other worlds. Apparently they aren't any better at keeping their word than regular mortals."

"Great. First everybody has little demons following them around, and now there are angels opening and closing windows to alternate dimensions?" the Once-ler threw his blue hands into the air, sighing exasperatedly. "I give up, is this heaven, or a video game?"

The young lady looked at him sharply. "This is no such thing. This is simply one world out of many, one choice out of thousands. Each time a decision is made, a new world is born with the opposite decision."

The tall man's breath hitched at that. If what this woman was saying was true, then somewhere out there was a world where he didn't break his promise, a world where he didn't cut down all of the trees – a world where the Lorax didn't get so mad at him for things he didn't f***ing _do_–

"How did you do it?"

"Excuse me?"

"How did you open up a window to this world?"

The question was accusatory and brutal. The Once-ler almost seemed to stagger under the blow. "What? No, I don't even – how do you even – no!" he waved his hands in the air to emphasize his point. "I didn't open up any windows, glass, plastic, or otherworldly. I got it from a friend, OK?"

The goose cocked his head at the young man, opening his bill to speak to him for the first time. "You got _what_ from _whom_, precisely?"

The Once-ler blushed slightly, looking at his sodden shoes as he answered, "A closet. From the Lorax." Seeing that neither of them showed any recognition at the name, he elaborated, "You know, the Guardian of the Forest? He speaks for the trees!"

The woman seemed to consider this before nodding. "Yes, a deity that spoke for something as powerful as the trees could have certainly made a portal, though why he would want to stick one in a closet of all places I have no idea."

The young man bobbed his head eagerly, happy that someone finally understood how weird Mustache was. "I know, right? He's so silly sometimes. Tried floating my bed down a river once, you know..." He stretched, falling into the young lady's lap as he did so. Blinking sleepily, he murmured something along the lines of "'Night, mama."

The woman shared a glance with her bird companion. "Kiasa, I think you better escort our friend back to his closet before he falls asleep and dies from the cold." With one graceful movement, she prodded his head off of her legs and onto the ground, where he bolted upright, spluttering.

"Time to go, pretty boy," said the goose, launching himself from the witch's shoulders and into the air.

"What?" the Once-ler grunted, pushing himself to his feet. "No, I have to leave already? But there are _people_here! It's so lonely back home-" his body shook, whether it was from tears or from the cold he did not know, but he wrapped his soaking wet cloak tighter around him as he spoke. "I want to live here – live with you-"

Blue eyes widened as they realized their mistake. In one fluid movement, the woman before his was on her feet, seeming to tower above him despite being the shorter one. "You do not, cannot, and shall not _ever_ want to live with me, _boy_," she spat out the last word like a bad taste. "You are entranced by my looks, undoubtedly, but you cannot let that fool you. You came here with a mission sent to you by your friend, the Lorax. That mission was to find me, of that I am sure. My duty is to tell you that you have unfinished business in your world, and that you have to finish it before you can move on. Your friend gave you this window to another world, or to multiple other worlds, for a reason, and you are going to find out that reason before doing anything else. Devote your life to the cause.

"You say you are alone, yet that is not the case. In this world, people's souls take physical shape. In other worlds, their souls stay inside of their body. Kiasa and I can sense dæmons inside of people, and yours is not there. That can only mean that your soul is waiting for you back home. Waiting for you to find her."

The Once-ler backed up a few steps, not used to being lectured so aggressively. Mostly, the only times people talked to him this much was to berate him for being so stupid (Mustache) or to sneak some form of cash from him (his mama).

"C-can I at least know your name before I leave?" he stammered. It was purely because of the cold, he told himself firmly. Nothing more.

The witch eyed him coldly before responding. "My name is Pekkala. Serafina Pekkala."

"Once-ler," offered the tall man, putting out his hand.

Serafina blatantly ignored his open palm. "Kiasa won't wait forever, and if you can't find your way back, I'm not going to help you find a place to stay."

"Oh. Right." Rubbing his completely numb hands together, he followed after the large bird. Right before turning the corner into another street, he looked back. "Will I see you again?"

The witch raised an eyebrow. "That depends on whether or not your duty leads you to me again," she responded. "Farewell and good luck on your journey, Once-ler."

"Wait, but what about-"

And just like that, she was gone. The young man was not completely sure whether she had teleported away, turned invisible, or hopped onto a broomstick and flown away, but whatever the case, she wasn't here anymore.

"She was so _beautiful_..." muttered the inventor to himself as he turned around and started to follow her dæmon back to his closet, and his home. Occasionally, he would slip and stagger, his wet pants beginning to freeze up and make movement uncomfortable. He didn't mind. He had a duty to fulfill. A duty that may involve seeing her again.

A duty that involved not being alone anymore.

* * *

**So, whadja think? ^^ I'm pretty proud of this chapter. I'm not sure I like the ending too much, but Oncie is so fun to write about that once I started this chapter it pretty much wrote itself. It looks like our little Once-ler is starstruck with Serafina! Only chapter three and there's already a potential love interest? My little Oncie, you grew up so fast (: Of course, you are going to grow a lot more before the book is done... :D **

**The new world in this chapter is _His Dark Materials_ by Phillip Pullman. Please let me know if you did not understand some aspect of the HDM world so that I can clarify it! **

**Feel free to comment, critique, or flame, whatever floats your boat! :3**

**~Mika**

**EDIT- a friend on another site informed me that I had been spelling Kaisa's name wrong. Fixed now :D**


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